He heard two doors smash and with a loud screech and a blinding beam of light, the door to the back opened. He expected the three masked men to open, but found a woman instead. "Is your name Martin?" "Who are you?", he asked. "I'm no one, until you tell me your name." His eyes almost fully adapted to the brightness and he could now see her clearly. She was wearing all black, except for a jeans jacket. She seemed to shiver in the cold, and he couldn't help but notice, that she's kind of cute.
" Pow pow pow, shit!"
Silence has taken over. The ahots fired have stopped and a thud is heard above. Ten minutes later there is a knock at the door. His knock is more of a sequence knock like a code. "Julie?" The woman behind the peep hole is covered in muck breathing he okay and wiping sweat from her brow. Finally the door is opened. " I told you this is a secret knock you don't call my name you knock back in the same sequence! Idiot!" Julie and Hannah have been stranded in their grandfathers complex for days....
Miss or Diss
This game is easy. And it all started at lunch yesterday. We were sitting down in the restricted area. My friend brought up a game.
"Let's play, 'Miss or Diss" She called out.
I was very confused. Miss or Diss? What the heck is this game? My friend must have read my mind, "Clara, It's a game where you pick a person from our school or any character you like and you say it to another person in our group if you want to Diss him/her or you want to Miss -which stands for Marriage, I, sure,...
I am in love with a coffee machine. A robot that makes coffee. I am giddy about it my mornings are filled with percolating robot joy. I have placed the coffee robot on the side of the bed that I don't prefer to sleep on.
The girlfriend side of the bed.
The coffee bot is not my girlfriend she is not even a girl. I can not fuck her - she is too damn hot for that. But I don't mind if she watches my touch myself. That seems okay or well not okay okay I mean you know okay...
Water. Surrounded her from every direction on the huge cruise ship. She loved being out in the ocean, looking out as far as she could see and seeing nothing but water.
Her husband, on the other hand...
"Honey, please get up. Open your eyes and see!"
He shook his head, grasping tighter to his paper bag. "Shouldn't have allowed you to talk me into this...never should have listened to you."
She sighed, thinking her husband sounded so sickly and confused. Sad thing is he never threw up, loaded up on motion sickness meds weeks in advanced, and he barely felt...
Standing on the ledge, it seemed so surreal to him. It was like an out of body experience. He couldn't remember deciding to go to the roof. He certainly didn't remember deciding to do what he was about to do. It was almost humorous how much it felt like an out of body experience, almost. He looked down at his clothes and thought of all the different things he could have worn for this. It's odd the details that come into your mind in times of crisis and stress. I guess the devil really is in the details. He was...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda.
It was a long, lazy summer afternoon in the local park. She was swinging gently on one of the children's swings, fingers interwoven with the metal chains, face turned up to the sun. He didn't notice her at first, lying stomach-down on the grass with his nose buried in a book. But his attention wandered briefly from the page and came to rest upon her slim figure and there was something about her that captured his attention.
She was oblivious. She arched her back, stretched her...
I was an optimist. I thought that I, like Hemingway, could weave my influence between countries, live in the welcoming limbo between a government I believed in and one that spoke my language. I stopped trying to return to the United States thirty years ago. I am an airplane steward now. Sometimes I write in imperfect Spanish for a newspaper named after a boat named after a nameless elderly woman half a century dead. I believe every word I write. I am happy.
But the days I spent in the narrow land come back to me every day. They knew...
Bocci. Bocci ball. Bowling on a lawn. That's what I was doing in that old photo. But strange. Usually you bowl with other people. Usually there's markings on the ground, a target ball to shoot from. In the photo, I'm just standing there in the middle of the lawn, facing the house. My house? God, I don't know whose house that is. It could be a field house, or a club house, and I'm playing bocci, a game I don't know how to play, have never, as far as I'm aware, ever played before in my life, and I'm hunched...
The year was 1986, a foggy memory bubbling up to the surface of John's mind. He felt the asphault digging into his palms as he pushed himself up to his feet. His back screamed at him to stay down, but there was no time to remain limp on the floor.
200 years, thought John. This was the world as it was 200 years ago. John smiled to himself then, everyone had told him he was crazy... that his ideas were ludicrous. Time travel?.. a concept for the inept and idealistic as one professor had put it. With the arrival of...